


Tipsy

by LittleSpacePrince



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, this is my first and most likely only rpf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 13:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: “You know what?” Hugh murmured after a couple of silent moments and a few beers. Not enough to get him drunk, just enough to get that warm, fuzzy, tipsy feeling going in his head. “I think I might be just a little bit in love with you.”“Well that’s… Good.” Mads mused with a small smile. “Because I think that I might be just a little bit in love with you as well.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is shit. this is utter shit. here, read it anyways.

Hugh hadn’t seen it at first.

He hadn’t seen Mads as anything other than a coworker, a friend, hadn’t even seen him as particularly handsome for a long time. Sure, he wasn’t _bad-looking,_ but after watching him play Hannibal for so long, and the creepy son of a bitch he could be when he was in the zone, Hugh didn’t exactly look at him in the same way that he looked at Ryan Gosling, or Channing Tatum, or any of Hollywood’s pretty boys. Mads wasn’t attractive in the same way as them. It was subtler, took longer to see, but was undoubtedly there.

 Hugh noticed his hands first.

 He’d watched the scenes from the show over and over and over, the shots of him in his kitchen, hands skilled around a blade… He noticed it in everyday life, too. When he was standing outside and puffing at a cigarette, the way that he held it between his fingers. Whenever he made small gestures while he talked, expressive when he was melting into whatever he was talking about. Whenever he drummed his fingers against the desk whenever he was bored. The way that his hands moved so effortlessly and fluidly whenever he was scribbling something down. Hugh quickly found himself infatuated by his hands, constantly watching them and imagining the way that they felt on his skin and…

 He noticed his eyes second.

 Whenever they were working, in the show, Hannibal’s eyes were always dark, sly, not like Mads’. Mads had eyes that could light up the room. Whenever he was happy, they lit up, scrunching up just ever so slightly at the corners, even without him smiling. Hugh sometimes found himself staring for hours, getting lost in them as he struggled to keep his train of thought as they talked, too distracted by the tiny details, tiny flecks of color and shades of warm browns to hear a word that he was saying.

 The third thing that Hugh realized he liked was his voice.

 At first, he’d had a bit of a hard time understanding whenever Mads got to talking too fast, which luckily wasn’t that often, but he’d been intrigued by his accent from day one. Hugh knew that people tended to like his normal accent here in the States, his British accent being considered hot by some, just exotic enough but not _too_ exotic, still within the realm of normal. But Hugh had always liked Mads’, liked his voice, especially when he slipped back into Danish. Whenever they’d go out for a drink that quickly turned into ten, and Mads was drunk and slurring his words, Hugh found himself intrigued whenever he would start to forget bits of English and start using his native tongue instead…

He had been positively fucked when he first started watching Mads’ Danish movies. _‘The Hunt’, ‘A Royal Affair’, ‘Pusher II’._ Christ, he was lucky that he had been watching them alone, otherwise everyone would have known his dirty little secret, the little crush that had been long developing on his coworker growing evident by the tent in his pants during the sex scenes. Hugh found himself watching those scenes over, and over, and over, especially in the dead of night with the volume turned low and his hand wrapped around his swollen prick, all while telling himself that Mads was just a friend.

 But he wasn’t just a friend. He hadn’t been just a friend in years. Intimate onscreen moments turned into moments that weren’t exactly acting. There had been times on set where he had gotten so close to his lips and had been so tempted to steal a kiss, somehow fooling himself into thinking that maybe Mads was feeling the same thing, maybe he was thinking the same thing, wanting the same thing. It was simple gestures and jokes shared between them and times when Hugh didn’t want to be around anyone else…

 He was falling in love.

 It had all been building up, for years now, everything that he felt and everything that he wanted, everything forced down and hidden behind lock and key. But Mads was in town for the first time in months, and Hugh supposed that it didn’t take too much to unlock secrets and lips sealed so tightly. A few drinks, maybe.

 Mads always got a little more handsy when he was drunk. Those hands, the first things that Hugh fell in love with, what first drew his attraction, were all over him tonight. The two of them, home alone, no one there to stop them or judge them. Mads’ hand rested on his thigh, close to him, closer than they had been in awhile. They’d been catching up, talking about anything and everything, but the air had begun to still around them, leaving them with nothing but quiet breaths and hands pressed against him.

 “You know what?” Hugh murmured after a couple of silent moments and a few beers. Not enough to get him drunk, just enough to get that warm, fuzzy, tipsy feeling going in his head. “I think I might be just a little bit in love with you.”

 Mads’ eyes widened at the confession, just a bit. He wasn’t shocked, not in the slighted. There were things that could not be felt only by one person, and Mads supposed that he’d known for a long time now. He hadn’t quite expected it, no, but he was hardly all that surprised. Mads smiled at him, turning more fully toward him and running a hand through his curls, savoring the way that they felt between his fingers.

 “Well that’s… Good.” Mads mused with a small smile. “Because I think that I might be just a little bit in love with you as well.”

 Hugh gave him a small grin, half drunk off of the older man’s touch, leaning into his palm as he swayed back and forth ever so slightly. Those hands, god, those hands, touching his face, palm against his cheek as his dark eyes met his own. Hugh’s eyes darted between those dark eyes and his lips, lips he found himself imagining all over him.

 He wasn’t quite sure who kissed who, but Hugh suddenly found himself kissing the man that he had been falling in love with for so long now. In his lap, legs wrapped around the older man’s waist, those hands that he loved so much slipping up under his shirt... Will sighed against his lips as he felt his cock hardening between his legs, twitching as his need grew within him, the kiss deepening as Mads held him close, held him tight.

 Mads let out a groan as the younger man began to grind down on him, cocks heavy and thick between them, Hugh rubbing against him through four layers of clothes. His chest began to heave as he pulled him closer, closer, refusing to let him go. He let go of all thoughts, let go of anything that might have convinced him to pull away, might have pulled any amount of reason into his head, letting himself live in the moment and take it all in. Reason couldn’t take this from him now.

 “Fuck me.” Hugh breathed, voice raspy, breath like whiskey as he found himself grinding quicker, faster, the two of them horny and desperate after years and years of keeping everything buried so deep.

Mads’ fingers dug into his skin, leaving rows of nail marks down his back that would hopefully stay there for hours, days after he was gone. The older man tugged off Hugh’s shirt and tossed it aside before claiming his mouth again, kissing him slowly, deeply.

He wasn’t moving fast enough.

Hugh pushed the older man back, reaching down and undoing his own jeans and shoving them off, freeing his aching cock. He need him, needed all of him, and he needed him now.

Mads stared at the younger man above him, eyes full of need and desire. Hugh was a sight to see, beautiful in ways that he hadn’t noticed before. Tentatively, he reached up, fingers grazing over his body, feeling him all over, wanting every single inch of him, but Hugh grabbed his wrist and pulled down, guiding his hand to his rigid cock.

“Touch me.” Hugh demanded. He normally would have wanted to take his time, memorize each inch of him, take time to feel his body moving in him, with him. But now, he was drunk and he was horny and he had wanted this for so damn long that he didn’t want to take his time anymore. He wanted it fast and hard and rough and loud.

Mads obeyed him, curling his fingers around his length and stroking him hard, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip down his shaft, touching him in the way that he touched himself, touching him in the way that he had wanted to touch him for so long now. So many years spent quiet, so many years spent wondering and waiting and thinking that maybe someday, maybe if they had met under different circumstances, maybe in another life, maybe, maybe, maybe.

But here they were. Emotions flying and lips colliding and hazy heads and random hookups. Regrettable. Perfectly regrettable. Perfectly… Perfect.

“Out of these.” Hugh murmured as he tugged the older man’s shirt off, it taking everything in him not to tear everything off of him seam from seam, let the fabric rip. He unzipped his pants quickly, tearing them off his legs and tossing them aside between stolen kisses, the taste of him and beer on his tongue.

Hugh glanced down between them, cocks stiff and pressed against each other, leaking and ruddy and wet at the tip. It was absolutely filthy, and absolutely wonderful. Hugh leaned forward, claiming his lips again as he reached between them, taking Mads’ hand in his own a he led it to their cocks. He wanted to feel those hands against him, wrapped around his length, the two of them rubbing up against each other… Oh, he needed it.

Mads sighed as his hands squeezed tight around their cocks, massaging at the glans until they could they could hardly breathe. The pressure of his hands squeezing around, the smooth glide of foreskin, the taste of Hugh’s breath on his tongue, sweat pouring and blood pumping, hips thrusting minutely against him as he moaned beneath him, his filthy little prince, the man that he had wanted for so long and loved so much.

“So fuckin’ good.” Hugh moaned, bucking slightly against him.

Oh, those hands, those hands, those hands. His hands were so perfect, his hands being all that he had dreamed of for so long, the first thing he’d fallen in love with. He squeezed tight around their length as Hugh struggled to set pace, to move in time with Mads’ small thrusts. He dug his fingers deep into his shoulders, fingernails digging marks into his skin that Hugh prayed would last til morning, struggling to keep his eyes open and watch his hands move and squeeze and massage at his cock. 

Hugh slowly pulled back, inhaling sharply and capturing his eyes. His eyes were boring into him, dark eyes meeting Hugh’s blue ones. Those eyes, staring deeply into him, into his heart, into his _soul._ Those eyes. He loved those eyes. He was mesmerized by those eyes, in love with those eyes.

 _"Jeg elsker dig, jeg elsker dig.”_ Mads moaned from beneath him, voice coming out ragged and shaky and trembling as he whispered them, words that Hugh couldn’t understand. But there was so much passion in them, taking him deeply, his words piercing deep into his soul and engraving themselves into his flesh.

 That was all that he could take.

 Hugh’s stomach flipped hard as he wrapped his arms tightly around the older man’s neck. He was already so close to coming, already could feel his balls drawing up. He didn’t want to come like this. He didn’t want to come with his hands around his cock, not on this couch, not right here. No, he wanted to come with Mads buried deep inside of him, his hands bruising at his hips, his stunning dark eyes rolling back into his head as he emptied himself deep inside of him, words like melodies rolling off his tongue in a tune that Hugh couldn’t understand.

 “Bed. Now.” Hugh demanded.

 Mads let out a small growl, claiming his lips and wrapping his hands tight around his ass, wrapping his legs around his waist and pulling him up, holding him close and carrying him to the bedroom, lips colliding and sucking and biting and _oh god._

 The older man dropped his lover onto the bed, watching him squirm beneath him, panting and flushed, chest heaving as his skin flushed bright pink. He was beautiful. More beautiful than he had ever expected.

 Mads leaned down and claimed his lips, straddling his thighs. He was drunk and in love and needed this more than he had ever needed anything in his life.

 “Lube?” Mads panted.

 “Nightstand.” Hugh whined, squirming, needing.

 The older man reached over, opening the drawer and fishing for the lubricant. He found it quickly, pulling it out and squeezing some out onto his fingertips. He reached between the younger man’s legs pulling them up around his waist before circling his rim with a slicked fingertip.

 Hugh squirmed beneath him, rim twitching and contracting as Mads touched him gently, massaging his rim as he slowly began to relax, squirmy and needy beneath the touch of his lover. He let out a moan as the older man pressed his finger inside, past his sphincter, pressing insistently against his prostate, like he knew just what to do. His back arched as pleasure coursed through him, pulsing through him.

 Mads pressed another finger inside of him, pumping in and out of him, quickly scissoring him open. He needed to be sheathed inside of him, needed to feel his tight heat wrapped around him, needed to bury himself deep inside… He needed him, needed it.

 “Now, now, please, Mads, inside of me, please.” He begged.

 “Condom?” Mads suggested.

 “Fuck the condom. Need you inside of me.” Hugh pleaded.

 Mads obeyed him, deciding to waste not another second. He grabbed the bottle of lube off the bed, squeezing it onto his fingers and slicking his shaft, making certain not to hurt him. Mads leaned down and kissed him again, lining himself up with Hugh’s twitching rim before pushing in, gliding into the hilt in one push, sheathing himself deep inside of the younger man as he clung tightly to him.

 Hugh let out a cry, head thrown back, taking him in full, his body adapting to the feeling of fullness. He let out a whine, digging his fingernails into Mads’ back, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper into him. Mads stilled inside of him for a moment, holding him tight and pressing kisses against his neck.

 “Move. Fuck me.” Hugh whispered.

 Mads let out a shaky breath, claiming his lips again as he pulled back slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of him, taking him fast and hard. The younger man lay moaning beneath him, rocking back against him, sweat pouring and chest heaving… Mads could hardly breathe, already coming so close, just the feeling of being inside of the man that he loved so much being enough.

 Hugh let out a sharp cry as Mads slammed against his prostate, over and over. He was as skilled in bed as Hugh had always imagined, bruising fingerprints into his hips, moving so rough and hard inside of him… It was perfect. It was so perfect, so perfect.

 His balls drew up tighter to his body, feeling himself coming closer, closer, already so close to coming. Hugh let out a whine, burying his face into the crook of his neck, trembling as he struggled to hold himself together. He didn’t want to come yet, didn’t want it to end just yet. But it was all coming apart, and then sleep would come and the sun would rise and dawn would come and they would have to go back to normal life. But he didn’t want it to end quite yet. He didn’t want the alcohol to wear off. He didn’t want to wake up hungover. He didn’t want to regret this in the morning.

 “Gonna come.” Hugh breathed.

 Mads slammed into him again, pressing his lips against his, feeling his body moving beneath him, hearts beating in sync. They were one.

 “Come for me, darling.” Mads murmured.

 And he obeyed.

 Hugh came hard, cock twitching and sputtering between their bellies as he came, thick, white semen squirting between them. The contractions of his body were what triggered Mads’ orgasm, emptying himself deep inside of Hugh.

 And then they were breathing. Laying. Heavy and hot and panting and sweaty and dirty and filthy and sleepy, curled in together. The older man looked down at his lover, eyes meeting, his hands grazing down slowly across his cheek, holding him gently.

 “I love you.” Hugh murmured.

  _“Jeg elsker dig.”_

  


\-------

  


Hugh woke the next morning to rain pounding on his window. Mads, the man he loved, the man he had wanted for so long, was laying in his bed.

 Oh, fuck.

This was going to make filming season four fucking weird.


End file.
